


A Million Words (But Only You)

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Violence, Dark Past, Depression, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Military Backstory, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Divorce, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Content, Slurs, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Richie is a newly single father struggling to care for his young daughter, Ava, while exploring his newfound independence. Jon is a photographer with a dark past who really doesn't know what in the world he's supposed to be doing.Tico is an ex-Navy Seal who is back home and unsure of how to adjust to civilian life after years of service. David is a depressed pianist who is struggling with the weight of the world and a terrible roommate.Alec is single and ready to mingle, determined to begin anew as he sets up a profile on a dating site. Natalie is his ex-girlfriend who just so happens to be on that same website, and who eagerly introduces Alec to a world full of possibilities.
Relationships: Alec John Such/Original Female Character, David Bryan/Tico Torres, Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora
Comments: 18
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the fact that I have multiple other stories to update, I have decided to start another story. 
> 
> That aside, please excuse any inaccurate descriptions regarding parenthood and military services.

The alarm clock was ringing, a child was screaming, and Richie was exhausted despite having only just woken up. This wasn't anything new, but all things considered, it was far from welcome. 

"Daddy! _Dad-ee!"_ Ava screamed in an uncanny impression of a banshee in footie pajamas, her little fists clenched. "Wake up!" She said, as if the earlier statements weren't enough. The bed dipped with the added weight as Ava pulled herself up onto the bed, which should've been enough warning, except Richie wasn't actually completely awake, and his mind was already drifting back away when a sudden child-shaped missile landed on his back. 

Richie grunted. "Fuck." He grit his teeth, temporarily forgetting about his profanity abstinence in the face of a whole new problem. It was too early to be dealing with this kind of thing, but yet it was clear that nothing could nor would be done about it. Richie rolled over, and Ava giggled, patting his stomach. 

"Up, Daddy, up!" She encouraged. 

The sun wasn't even up, and even if it was, then it wasn't strong enough to puncture the curtains and seep into the bedroom. Despite this, Richie covered his eyes against the day that lay ahead of him, a road that he wss about to be forced to travel down. "Honey, it's early." Richie said, his voice partially muffled because his nose was being pressed down under the weight of his hand. "It's _too_ early." 

But toddlers weren't exactly known for their reasoning skills, and Ava only pouted, sticking out her bottom lip and crossing her arms across her chest like a miniature version of her mother. Richie forced those thoughts away, and instead reached out, his hand resting on the side of Ava's face. "Nickelodeon is still sleeping." Richie said, not bothering to feel guilty for the small lie. 

"No, it isn't!" Ava said, her voice seeming to bounce off the walls of the bedroom and echo into oblivion. "We watched it last time, remember, daddy?" It wasn't really a question. 

Richie cursed himself. "Well, it's sleeping in, baby. Why don't we -" He paused, narrowed his eyes, and then took a whole different route. It wasn't worth the fight of trying to get Ava back to sleep, because she was already wide-eyed and ready to rumble. However, Richie wasn't going to be able to function of two hours of sleep, no matter how many cups of coffee he had. "Okay, why don't we go in the living room, and you can sit down and watch some television?" He tossed the blanket aside and stood up, cracking his back as he did so. 

Ava stuck her arms in the air, and Richie agreeably picked her up and carried her out into the living room. It was dark, and Richie was glad for that as he set his daughter down on the carpet and grabbed the controller. He just planned on laying down on the couch and trying to fall back asleep, even if it was only for a few minutes. His eyes felt like there were bricks attached to them and weighing them down, and after the sleepless night he'd experienced previously, Richie didn't want to have to start the day. 

Not yet, anyways. 

Richie put on a cartoon and then lay down on the couch, his hands bunched up under his head to act as a pillow, legs drawn close against his stomach. He hadn't been getting much sleep in the wake of his recent divorce, and the sudden split between custody. Richie was stuck scrambling for time away from his job while trying to make amends with Heather, who seemed determined to blame him for something that wasn't there. 

He fell back asleep to the faint sound of some nonsense cartoon, and his precious daughter giggling. 

And then, twenty minutes later, was awoken to Ava shaking him frantically, as if there was some grave emergency but, in reality, it was something much more horrific, considering the consequences. "I'm hungry." Ava said. "And Spongebob is quiet." 

Richie looked up at the television, unsure of how to feel as he realized that yes, that stupid sponge had finally quieted. "Are you?" He said, feeling a little less tired but equally exhausted than when he started out. "Alright, come on." He stood up and motioned for Ava to follow him into the kitchen. 

The sun was finally beginning to rise, and the faintest ray of sunlight was beginning to seep in, giving life to the apartment. Richie hadn't fully moved in yet, and boxes were still piled in places where Ava couldn't access them, full of books that had never been read and all sorts of nonsense things that didn't matter. 

"Eggs?" Richie asked, peering into the fridge, which seemed way too bright at the current hour. 

" _And?"_ Ava said with a mischievous little smile, her hands bunched up under her chin, fingers clasped. 

Richie rolled his eyes, but smiled to show that he wasn't really irritated. "And bacon?" He guessed, and Ava nodded. 

Grabbing the carton and bag from the fridge, Richie set them down on the counter. "I thought that you didn't like bacon anymore." He said, retrieving the milk and shutting the fridge. 

With a yawn, Richie rattled through the cabinets, searching for the pan in question that would yield breakfast. 

"But now I do." Ava replied, standing in the threshold of the kitchen and bouncing on the balls of her feet. Somehow, despite the early wakeup, there was something so endlessly endearing about her that Richie looked at her, and knew that he would and could sacrifice the world for this one tiny human, for the one consequence of a bad decision that Richie had never regretted. 

It amazed Richie sometimes, how fast she'd grown. One minute, Ava had been a newborn swaddled in her mother's arms with barely a tuft of hair on her head who slept constantly and for long periods of time. The next, Ava was three years old with long blonde hair and a love for waking up before the sun did. Richie still didn't quite know what he was doing - his days were often punctuated by situations that he had no clue how to deal with, but that was okay. 

As long as he had Ava, than everything was okay. 

With that in mind, Richie felt a rush of sudden anger toward Heather, which he quickly squashed back down. In order for this whole thing to work, then Richie needed to be cordial. 

The last thing he needed was to deal with an angry Heather, too. 

Richie gave Ava her breakfast, made her promise to chew properly, and then jogged back into his bedroom to retrieve his phone. Heather had a weird habit of calling and texting at the mist random of times, and would start to panic if she wasn't given a response. Richie couldn't understand why, since he had proved himself time and time again to be a capable father, but supposed that she was just scares about having her daughter in an apartment that she didn't checked out first to ensure that it was safe. "Is it good?" Richie asked as he unlocked his phone and then opened his E-mail. 

Ava nodded, too busy eating to give a proper response. 

"Good." Richie felt satisfied with himself as he opened up his messenger. 

He had five missed calls, all from a certain ex-wife. 

"Oh, _shit._ Goddamnit, Heather." Richie groaned before he caught himself and stared at Ava, who thankfully didn't know her mother's real name, and was only looking at him with a rather mischievous glint in her eyes. 

"Daddy cursed." Ava said, shoveling another piece of scrambled egg into her mouth. 

Richie smiled. "Yes. Daddy did curse." He said, standing up and making his way into the living room as the phone rang in his ear. He did need to stop cursing so much, otherwise Ava was going to parrot it back to Heather, and get Richie in a world of trouble. 

Heather answered almost immediately. "Oh my god, Richie, is everything okay?" 

"Yes! Why were you calling like a goddamn lunatic?" Richie hissed, cupping his hand around his mouth and the phone to try and muffle his voice. 

"Because I got worried!" Heather replied, her voice high in panic. "I don't know anything about your neighbors or if you got a new girlfriend or if it's even safe! Do you know how many times a year that a baby-" 

Richie rolled his eyes. "Heather, if I had a girlfriend, then you would be the first person to know, trust me on that. And Ava isn't a baby anymore, she knows how to walk." He glanced behind himself at his daughter, who seemed oblivious to the muffled argument. 

From the other end of the phone, Heather sounded like she was about to start to have a mental breakdown. "Do you _know_ how many times a year that a baby chokes? Is Ava eating?" 

"Yes." Richie said. 

"And I'm guessing that you're in a different room?" Heather was probably halfway out the door already. 

"I'm - I'm staring right at her." Richie didn't know why Heather sounded so panicked, but had to chalk it up to her nerves being shot from the whole divorce and the ensuing custody battle, not to mention whatever her job was throwing at her. 

Ava stuck her hands up. "I'm done, daddy! Can I watch the TV now?" She asked. 

Richie stuck his finger up and signaled for her to wait a moment. "Heather, are you okay?" He asked, walking towards the door and leaning against it. They were both stressed, and on the end of their ropes. 

Heather sighed. "Yes. I'm sorry, Richie. I shouldn't have called. It's just that everything is just so - no, that's not an excuse." She paused. "I've gtta to now, tell Ava to have fun and that I love her, okay?" 

Richie nodded, even though Heather couldn't see him. "I will." He said. 

Something unspoken still lingered between them, unsaid emotions, too many words and yet, not enough. "Thanks, Richie." Heather said quietly, and then she hung up. They had once shared kisses and hugs, but now there was a cold distance that separated them, emotionally and physically. 

Resisting the urge to just lay down on the couch and fall back asleep so he could forget about the struggles of everyday life, if only temporarily, Richie ended the call and put his phone inside his pocket. Turning around, smiling, Richie walked back over to Ava. 

"How about we clean you up first?" Richie said. "We need to brush teeth and change our clothes and do all that boring stuff." He picked her up despite his back's complaints, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss against her soft hair, feeling the fragile skull underneath, a life that had years ahead. 

Ava giggled and tugged on Richie's ear. 

_She's worth it. Every single struggle, she makes it worth the fight._


	2. Chapter 2

There was something endlessly beautiful about the early morning hours, when a perceptive silence seemed to settle over the world, and give way to the millions of unsaid whispers. 

Jon shifted so that he was no longer laying atop of the thin stick that'd been poking into the part of his stomach that was right underneath his ribs and frowned into the darkness. He had been laying the exact same position for the last two and a half hours, and yet, not a single leaf had moved in warning of the incoming presence. 

It was freezing at such an hour, and even the cars in the distance sounded ominous, like the roars of monstrous creatures. Jon cupped his hands and breathed into them, looking off at the darkness of the park. Benches and playground equipment were like looming shadows, and only a squirrel had come by to try and root for food before Jon moved his leg and scared the animal away. 

Now, Jon was totally alone, and yet, it hadn't come. 

He was going to run out of battery soon. 

"Oh, _fuck_ me." Jon muttered in a low voice, reaching over into his backpack and pulling out his thermos. Of all the times, the damned animal wasn't going to make an appearance, and Jon had probably come out here for nothing, which made him look like a right idiot. 

Not even the coffee would improve his mood, and so Jon capped the thermos and set it back inside the backpack, his eyes starting to mistake the swing, which was swaying in the light breeze, for any sort of animal. Maybe he should've photographed that squirrel - at least, then, he would've had something to show for all his hard work. 

The wind ruffled the dry leaves, and strands of Jon's hair fell into his eyes. 

Jon sneezed into his elbow. ' _Damned, stupid allergies.'_ He thought with a sniff, squinting as a shape appeared in the distance. And then he was scrambling for the camera, his stiff fingers frantic and slippery as he hurried for the camera, desperate to catch the creature he had lay there for hours enduring each and ever sneeze and hoarse cough, just for this moment. 

Holding his breathe, Jon positioned the camera, and took his shot. 

The deer scampered away, as if hearing the slight sound of the button being pressed. Who knew? Maybe it did. But it didn't matter, because Jon had managed to capture that single moment, a rare albino deer in the wild. 

"Take _that,_ National Geographic." Jon said to himself as he examined the picture. 

It was hardly his best photograph, not by a long shot, but considering how dark it was, and in the rush that Jon had taken it, the end result was a beautiful shot of a barely lit backdrop and a deer with fur the color of snow. 

Pleased with himself, Jon gathered his supplies and started to walk back to his car, which was parked at the long end of the field. There was nothing else to do except make a new pot of coffee and stew over his recent contributions to the growing lack of storage on his favorite camera, a fact that needed to become one of the past. Jon placed the camera bag in the back alongside his backpack, got into the car, turned the heater on, and sat there for a moment, enjoying the warmth. 

That deer was his golden ticket, Jon knew. He was a contender in a '50 Best Wildlife Photographs' contest in some fairly-known magazine, which meant that each and every other person was also fighting for the chance to get their name and photo published on the internet, endorsed by people with much more experience, talent, and knowledge. Jon hoped that nobody else was going to go crazy with theirs, like go scuba diving just to photograph some rare, once-in-a-lifetime fish, or to the jungle to find a tiger. 

Turning on the radio for some listless talking to occupy his anxious mind, Jon drove away from the park, pulling onto the relatively empty streets. 

Maybe it was arrogant, just to assume that some deer would mark Jon's place in the photography world. As he stopped at a light, anxiously biting his nails, Jon considered that possibility. It was a beautiful animal, surely, but would it be enough? Or was this just a hopeless hoping? 

Jon surely hoped not, but had no way of knowing. 

The sound of his phone ringing was enough to make Jon flinch, and he scrambled to retrieve it before anything else could ruin the quiet, hazy morning that had been given. Jon blindly managed to accept the call, and then pressed it to his ear, unknowing who was on the other side. "Yes?" He asked, assuming that it was a tax collector, or somebody equally unimportant. 

"Where are you? I woke up and it's just - you're not here!" David was five inches away from yelling, his voice frayed with panic. 

Jon winced. "I had to go do some stuff." He said, trying to keep his voice calm and controlled. It seemed to work, though not by much. "Are you okay?" 

Frothe other side of the phone, something loud dropped, and David made a noise that could be compared to that of a wounded dog. "Yes. No. I don't know!" 

God, Jon knew he shouldn't have left, and now he was cursing that damned deer. "I'll be there soon." He promised, watching as the light finally turned green and he was able to go. 

"Why did you leave?" David asked. 

Jon glanced at the backpack. "Work." He said. 

It technically wasn't a lie, and thankfully, David wasn't in the position to question such a statement anyways. "Okay." He breathed out carefully. And then he paused. "Wait, work? Oh, God, am I keeping you? _Fuck."_

"What? No." Jon shook his head, resisting the urge to just turn unto incoming traffic because - 

_He needs you._

"No, I was headed home anyways." Jon said. 

For just a few hours, Jon had forgotten all about the everyday struggles of his life and could just focus on his photography. But now, it was all flooding back, like the dam of tranquility was broken, and the chaos was coming, ready to flood the fucking village. "Oh, that's - that's good." David said. 

Jon frowned. "Did you do something?" He asked, trying to calm his heart, which was beginning to beat like a drum at the pure possibility of what might have happened. 

"No." David replied. "I just panicked because - y'know..." He trailed off, but the rest of the sentence was easy enough to be discerned. 

Yeah, Jon knew all right. 

He knew what anxiety could do to a person, especially one such as David, but that didn't make the whole process any easier, no matter how much they tried. 

The sun was just beginning to make an appearance, a glowing orb in the still dark sky, and Jon wished he could savor just a moment or two in peace. But that wasn't the kind of life that Jon lived, nor had any intention of beginning. He sighed, wondering if this was going to be the theme of his life from now on. 

"I'm gonna go now." David said, obviously embarrassed from having panicked so much. "Sorry." He added, almost as an afterthought, but it was a genuine and sincere apology, nonetheless. It was clear how guilty David felt over having to rely on Jon so much, but Jon would rather have this than the alternative. 

"Okay. See you in a few minutes." Jon said, and when silence answered him, he pulled the phone away and ended the call. 

Jon knew he shouldn't have left without saying anything, but he had a life to live, even if it was riddled with unwanted memories and a desperation to be better than he was before. 

Ever since the break-in, David had been edging closer and closer to a mental breakdown, and Jon had been worrying endlessly about his friend, stuck between his aspirations in life and a need to make sure that David was okay. Jon wasn't a therapist, and every single piece of advice that he gave to David had been taken off the internet. 

' _I'm not qualified for this!'_ Jon thought, gritting his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache in response to his anger. He had no idea what to do, what he think, nor what he was supposed to do. David needed professional help, not for his friend to Google search answers that never seemed to work. 

Jon laughed to himself quietly. ' _We both need therapists.'_ He thought, shaking his head and turning off the radio. He ran his hand through his hair, and thought back to the magazine. Was this all for nothing? Was he risking everything for zero results? 

But that was what life was about - risks. 

Or, at least, that's what Jon was told, and it was at this point in his life - twenty three years old and living a tiny apartment - that he was beginning to question that wisdom. He was already cynical enough that he was convinced that nobody would help him get to the top, so why not just take that second extra step? 

The apartment building came into view, and Jon wasn't sure whether or not he should've been relieved or not. It was such an old, dilapidated building that Jon was half-convinced that it was going to collapse, so it was a genuine surprise that it hadn't happened yet. 

Maybe it would, one day, soon. 

With them in it. 

' _Oh, great.'_ Jon rubbed the bridge of his nose. ' _Dave's starting to rub off on me.'_ He thought, parking the car and leaning back into the car to retrieve his camera bag and the backoack before shutting the door, making sure to lock it. They lived in a rather horrible part of the city, and with their luck, then somebody would steal it. 

It wasn't exactly the best car, all things considered, just some old piece of shit that Jon's father had given to him, but it was reliable. 

Most of the time, anyways. 

And that? Well, it was good enough. 

Jon walked into the building, wrinkling his nose instinctively at the smell of stale smoke and marijuana. He didn't do any of that shit, so it was only natural that he end up at a place chock full of drugs. Heaving the bag further up his shoulder despite how heavy it was, Jon walked up the stairs. The elevator didn't work even on the good days, so it wasn't worth an attempt. 

Honestly, Jon shouldn't have even been surprised when the break-in had happened, because to the poorest in the city, the people who had even the slightest wealth were targeted. Jon took the stairs two at a time when he realized that he wasn't alone in the vicinity, and he didn't want to be caught dead with even the most innocuous of people. 

If there was a single thing Jon had learned in the past few years, it was that not a single person could be trusted. 


End file.
